


I Don't Know Who You Are (But I'm With You)

by rustytiffany



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 10:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3647388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustytiffany/pseuds/rustytiffany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn didn't know where he came from, but after a while she just accepted that she would never know. Rachel saw the Stranger every Saturday at the park, but she still couldn't figure out if it was a boy or girl under that hat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Know Who You Are (But I'm With You)

Quinn stood in front of her full-length mirror, barely recognizing the person looking back at her. She knew it was her, it _had_ to be her, but the more she looked the harder it became to see herself. All she could see was _him_ , with his cocky smirk and left eyebrow raised in a way that said _”go ahead, I dare ya”_ , staring back at her.

She wasn’t really sure where he came from, or why he was even there at all. She’d just been hanging out in her room and she suddenly had the strangest feeling. Her mom wasn’t home, thank god; trying to explain who he was and what he was doing in her room would have been impossible. Mystified and more than a little curious she went down to the basement to dig out the box of clothes her dad had accidentally left behind and her mom never got around to donating to Goodwill or the church. She found some jeans and a couple shirts that seemed like they would probably fit, as well as a decent tie and hat that she was certain would look fantastic. She tossed the clothes in the washing machine and turned it on, then leaned against it as she let her mind wander and ask all the questions she’d been avoiding.

_Where did he come from? What is he doing here? What does he want from me? And most importantly – who IS he?_

The machine beeped, signaling the end of the cycle. She switched the clothes over to the dryer, then hopped on top to wait for it to finish. The more she thought about it, the more confused she got. Eventually she just gave up. He was obviously there for a reason, she’d just have to stick it out and wait until he was willing to talk.

The dryer stopped; she gathered the clothes up in her arms and brought them up to her room, where she knew he was waiting for her to return. She sighed. She hated waiting.

\---

Six months passed. He started showing up fairly regularly, but not on enough of a schedule that she had a chance to prepare for his arrival each time. She did, however, learn his name: Cody. She still wasn’t sure why he came at all, but she’d stopped questioning it and just accepted that she probably would never know. She never knew when he was coming, she would just get that strange feeling and he would be there, already moving towards the closet where she hid her dad’s old clothes for him. Once he was dressed, she stopped in front of the mirror to really look at him. He looked quite a bit like her, actually. Same blonde hair, though his was shorter and hidden under the hat, same hazel eyes. They were even built roughly the same way, though he was just slightly bigger. He put up a good front, appearing confident and like he could have anything he wanted, but she could see the flicker of humility in his eyes when she looked at him.

At first, he didn’t leave her room except to get food and go to the bathroom. After the first few times though he got a little more comfortable and began going out for walks in the park. He didn’t talk to anyone, he just wandered around observing people. Sometimes he just sat on one of the benches and people watched. It seemed as though he had developed an interest in one person in particular, and the thought made Quinn quietly seethe with a rage that she couldn’t explain. So what if Cody liked Rachel Berry? She didn’t care. She didn’t even like the midget. He was welcome to her if he wanted her. Let him deal with her incessant talking and her constant need to be the best at everything and her ugly animal sweaters and her skirts that were just barely long enough to not be considered indecent and showed off her surprisingly long, tanned legs…

Wait, _what?_

Where had _that_ come from?

 _He must be rubbing off on me,_ she thought, _I need to stop hanging out with him when he—_

Wait a second. Quinn stopped and thought back to every time in the last six months that he’d shown up. She could remember getting that feeling she always got right before he arrived, and she could remember waking up dressed in her dad’s old clothes for reasons she could never figure out. But the middle was blank. She couldn’t remember ever spending time with the boy. The closest she got was looking at herself in the mirror and seeing him looking back and her once in a while, but she always wrote that off as being the result of looking so similar, especially when she wore clothes like the slightly-too-big, well-worn jeans she’d inherited from her older sister, or one of the men’s button down shirts her cousins gave her, or her favorite oversize hoodie. She didn’t care if they made her look lazy, or if they hid her curves; they were comfortable, and after spending all day in that stupid Cheerios uniform she wanted nothing more than to just kick back and relax in her loose, comfy, lounging clothes.

But still. How was it possible that in all the times he’d been here, they’d never hung out? It wasn’t like he knew anyone else. He never talked. He just watched. Not in a creepy, Edward Cullen kind of way; he didn’t stalk Rachel, he just observed her interact with the young children at the park, just like he did with everyone else. There was something about Rachel though, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he was intrigued by her.

Quinn shook her head again. Wait, how did she know all of this about him? Other than when he told her his name, _they never spoke_. It didn’t make sense. She turned towards the mirror on her closet door. Gingerly she rose off the bed and moved toward it, unsure of what she was hoping to see. She just had a feeling that the mirror would help her understand. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then slowly opened them and looked into the mirror.

The first thing she saw was her reflection, like she always did when she looked in the mirror. But when she looked a little closer, the image started changing. Within seconds she found herself staring at him, his expression mirroring hers. She didn’t understand. What was going on? She lifted her right arm; he raised his left. She put her left hand on her stomach; he moved his right hand to the same place. She tried a few other motions, and every time he did the exact same thing, just opposite. She placed her palms flat against the mirror. His hands met hers. She looked down at their hands, she saw them touching, yet she could only feel cool glass. She looked back up and their eyes met. Realization dawned over both their features.

_That’s not—he can’t be—not with all that stuff with—But I don’t—_

Quinn stumbled backwards, away from the mirror. Cody did the same. They stared at each other, both breathing hard.

_No fucking way._

\-----

It was a beautiful Saturday in June. The end of the school year was nearing, and there was a lighthearted feeling that indicated summer was right around the corner. The park was busy, but not overcrowded. Cody sat on his usual bench at the park, observing everything going on around him. He watched as young children climbed up the fake rock wall, swung across the monkey bars and ran over the plastic bridge, only to slide down the big twisty red slide and start all over again. He saw the older children playing fetch and Frisbee with their dogs. He noticed the groups of parents and caretakers sitting together, talking animatedly about their kids’ latest achievement or wacky antic. He sighed contentedly. He loved doing this, people watching. People fascinated him. He wanted to learn their stories and hear about their lives and understand what brought them all to this particular park at this particular time on this particular day. While he couldn’t answer that question for all the other people, he knew exactly why he was there. It was quite simple, really.

He wanted to see her. Rachel Berry. The girl with the voice of an angel, who wore itty bitty skirts with sweaters that looked like someone’s blind grandma had knitted but still managed to exude the kind of raw sexuality that demanded attention. The girl on whom he was currently harboring a monstrous crush, but who didn’t know he existed. No one knew he existed, actually. Except Quinn. And even she didn’t fully understand. At least not yet.

To her credit, Quinn was trying. She was still a little fuzzy on some of the details, but she understood who he was and why he was there. It took her some time to accept the reality of what his presence meant for her, but eventually she came around. He knew it wouldn’t be easy for her with her upbringing and all, but she seemed complacent with the idea at this point, if not full-out comfortable. She knew why he went to the park every weekend (his visits had increased to weekly), and she no longer tried to keep him from doing so. She just let him do his thing, and she was always there, fast asleep but fully dressed in her dad’s old clothes, when he returned.

He was always gone when she woke up.

\---

Rachel loved the park. She’d been going there every Saturday since she was a baby, and it had become a part of her routine, just like her morning elliptical workout and her vegan protein shake for breakfast (that was during the week; on weekends she treated herself to vegan blueberry pancakes). She loved seeing the kids running around playing, all light and carefree. She loved watching the strong, beautiful dogs leaping in the air to catch a Frisbee or chasing down a ball before dropping it at their owners’ feet. She loved overhearing bits and pieces of the soccer moms and babysitters’ conversations, just enough to hear the pride in a mother’s voice as she bragged about her son making honor roll or her daughter scoring the winning goal in her soccer game. But most of all, she loved sneaking glances at the mysterious stranger she always saw at the park but never anywhere else, to see if they were still watching her.

She’d never spoken to him (at least she _thought_ it was a him. They sat and walked like a guy, but their build and delicate hands seemed more female), but she’d noticed him immediately five months earlier when he’d first walked into the park and sat on that bench. It was easy to find him; he never changed his spot, and he always wore some variation of the same thing: well-worn jeans that were just a touch too big, a men’s button down shirt, and depending on the weather, an oversized hoodie. He usually had a tie knotted loosely and casually around his neck, and he always wore a hat low enough that the shadow shielded most of his face. Occasionally the light would shift and she would catch a glimpse of soft-looking pink lips, but he would always choose that exact moment to rise from his bench and leave. Even though it happened every time, she couldn’t help the disappointment the washed over her as she watched his retreating form once again. Another week, another missed opportunity to finally talk to him.

She couldn’t figure out what it was about this person that affected her so much. She didn’t even know him, and yet she was drawn to him. She felt a sense of familiarity whenever he was around. A feeling of comfort and safety, but at the same time a slight hint of fear. There was only one other person in the world she got that feeling around, and that was Quinn Fabray.

\---

Contrary to popular belief, Rachel didn’t hate Quinn. In fact, she and Quinn had declared a kind of mutually unspoken truce in the last few months, and despite being back as head Cheerio and ruling McKinley once again, Quinn remained courteous and respectful of Rachel, sometimes even friendly. Rachel wasn’t sure what changed for the blonde, but she wasn’t about to complain. She quite enjoyed being slushie-free and being called by her actual name, rather than the unimaginative nicknames the popular kids had been using for years. If she was honest, she actually had a lot of respect and admiration for Quinn, and she believed the two of them had more in common than either was ready to admit.

Initially she didn’t understand why she got that feeling around Quinn, but it was there, lurking, in the pit of her stomach every time she and Quinn were in the same vicinity. After some contemplation and a careful analysis of the situation from all possible angles, Rachel came to the conclusion that she was extremely attracted to Quinn.

The fact that she was interested in another girl didn’t faze her in the least bit—when she was seven her fathers sat her down and told her that love is love, whether it’s between two men, a man and a woman, or two women, and that they would love her no matter what, so she should always stay true to herself regardless of what other people think. She’d long ago accepted that she was bisexual, and had had satisfying experiences with both boys and girls. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to Quinn from a purely physical standpoint; the girl was stunningly beautiful, and she had a fantastic body due to three years of suffering through grueling Cheerios practices. But this was different. Rachel had seen a softer, more caring side of Quinn emerge after babygate, and she found that she really enjoyed being around that Quinn. She wanted to spend time with her, and learn her likes and dislikes, and to be the first one Quinn called when she was happy or upset. She wanted something more, something deeper, something realer than just a physical relationship. She actually wanted to _date_ her, to go out to Breadsticks for dinner and see a movie, to cuddle on a picnic blanket and watch the stars, to spend all weekend in bed and enjoy the lingering raspberry vanilla scent of Quinn’s perfume even hours after she left, to buy her flowers and chocolate and all the other cheesy things people do when they’re courting someone. She wanted all of that with Quinn, which was why she was so confused by her fascination with the stranger from the park. She knew absolutely nothing about them—for Christ’s sake she didn’t even know if she should refer to them as a he or a she—so how could it be possible that she was feeling all the same things for them that she felt for Quinn?

\-----

Rachel woke up early on Saturday, as she always did. She breezed through her morning routine with more ease than usual, and she was in a great mood. She wasn’t sure why exactly, other than the fact that it was Saturday, which meant that she would get to see the Mysterious Stranger in the park. But this morning felt different. She couldn’t quite articulate why, she had just woken up feeling fabulous and like it was going to be a great day. The universe seemed to agree, as a glance out her window told her it was bright and sunny outside. She finished her breakfast and hurried out the door, eager to get to the park.

She spent most of her time playing with the younger kids, like she always did, helping them reach the monkey bars or letting them sit on her shoulders so they could reach. She liked hanging out with the kids; to them she was a giant. It was a nice change.

She kept an eye out for the Mysterious Stranger, but the bench remained empty. A few times she thought she caught a glimpse of the hat out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned to look there was no one there. She pretended it didn’t bother her, but she couldn’t help the heavy feeling of disappointment that settled over her.

\---

It was late afternoon on Saturday. The park was mostly cleared out as parents and caregivers tried to round up their kids and get them home in time for dinner. Rachel usually left around this time as well, but there was a part of her that refused to give up hope that the Mysterious Stranger would still show up. She sat on their usual bench waited.

And waited.

And waited.

She sat there until the sun began to disappear behind the trees and the air grew significantly cooler. She felt the wind blow against her bare arms and shivered slightly, and started rubbing her hands over her arms in an attempt to warm them up a bit. She was about to give up and head home when she heard a voice behind her.

“Keeping my seat warm for me, I see. That’s very sweet of you.”

Rachel turned. Behind her stood the Mysterious Stranger, though they didn’t seem as mysterious somehow, nor did they really feel like a stranger. She couldn’t help feeling like she knew this person, even though they had their hat pulled too low for Rachel to see their face.

“I-I-I thought you weren’t going to show up. I looked for you all day, and you never came. It sounds stupid, since I don’t even know you…god I don’t even know if you’re a boy or a girl…but I missed you.”

The Stranger smiled and took a step toward Rachel. Something about that smile seemed familiar to Rachel, but she couldn’t place it. “Oh, on the contrary, Rachel. You do know me. Well, in a way. You know me much better than you think you do.”

The Stranger took another step closer. They were close enough now that if Rachel reached her hand out she could touch them.

Rachel swallowed. That voice…she definitely recognized it, but it sounded different somehow. She felt like there was one piece she kept missing and when she finally found it, everything would fall into place.

The Stranger stepped forward again. They were standing close enough that Rachel could feel the heat radiating off their body. They unzipped their hoodie and leaned forward to wrap it around Rachel’s body. The Stranger turned their head so their mouth was next to Rachel’s ear, but she still couldn’t see their face.

“Meet me just before midnight, right here. There’s something I want to show you.”

The Stranger turned and pressed their lips against Rachel’s. Rachel gasped in surprise, giving the Stranger an opportunity to slip their tongue into Rachel’s mouth and deepen the kiss. Rachel sighed softly, it felt so right, even if she still didn’t technically know who she was kissing.

Just as Rachel was about to move her hand up to pull them closer, the Stranger pulled back, turned around and disappeared into the darkness. Rachel stayed rooted in her spot, processing what just happened. She could still feel her lips tingling from the kiss.

Rachel felt the wind blow against her cheek and wondered how the rest of her didn’t feel anything, when she suddenly remembered that she was still wearing the Stranger’s hoodie. She thought about calling out to them but figured it was pointless; they were definitely gone by now. She reached into the pocket to pull the sweatshirt tighter around her and felt a piece of paper. She pulled it out; it was a note addressed to her. She opened it. It was unsigned.

_R-_  
_Bring the sweatshirt tonight, it’s chilly and you’ll probably need it. Afterwards, you can keep it. It looks better on you anyway._

_p.s. check the other pocket too._

Rachel reached into the other pocket and pulled out a small box. Inside was a thin gold chain with a glistening gold star dangling from it. It was beautiful. As Rachel brought the box closer to her so she could get a better look in the dark, she caught a whiff of raspberry vanilla. She paused.

_No way. It couldn’t be…could it?_

\---

Quinn awoke to the setting sun streaming in through her open window and faint sounds of crickets in the distance as they prepared for nightfall. It was Saturday, and normally she would have woken up early and waited for him to show up, then spent the day lounging around in her pajamas until he decided to come back, but today was different. Today she was calling the shots. She had a plan. She knew what she wanted, and she was going after it. She dug out the clothes she hid for him and quickly put them on, admiring her reflection in the mirror. She adjusted her hat, smiled his cocky grin and raised his right eyebrow. Cody stared back at her, trademark grin in place and left eyebrow raised in his signature look.

“Ready?”

Nod. “Are you?”

Another nod.

“Let’s go get your girl.”

**Author's Note:**

> title from I'm With You, by Avril Lavigne


End file.
